


A Mind of Imaginary Circus Tricks

by charliebradcherry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Hallucifer Just Wants Sam's Love, Hallucinations, Imaginary 'Friend', M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebradcherry/pseuds/charliebradcherry
Summary: Lucifer was that petulant kind of 'friendly' company that existed for a sole reason, and that was to entertain Sam (and epically failing at it). As in juggling with five pears and 'accidentally' smashing them in the nurse's face while she checked up onto her patient or making abortive attempts at knitting matching socks for Sam to wear but ending up burning them. He was the annoying sort of imaginary friend that Sam had never wished for.Though after all of those years of having to cope with his hallucination, Sam never thought he'd discover that it had actual feelings.





	A Mind of Imaginary Circus Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so since my Samifer Big Bang story is finished, I can start a new project and try to motivate myself into writing more. This idea had been in my mind for a while and I posted a gifset about it on Tumblr, but never thought that I'd actually be interested to write it. Though here I am! 
> 
> This will have timestamps from the past to get a little hint from how and why Hallucifer is a part of Sam's life mixed between those of how Luci and Sam's relationship currently develop.

An entire minute of quietitude was like a birthday wish that would never come true.

To be left abandoned in isolation, to become deaf so he wouldn’t be forced to hear the repetitive whining around him all the time, to become sightless so he didn’t have to recognize the same old face grinning impishly back at him from morning to night time.

In contrary to what many people would believe, an empty room that was constructed out of eternal serenity was Sam’s heaven. But even despite that, he was afraid to live it, just not to dream it.

The world he was living in right now? You could call it a parody of Hell.

Sam didn’t even have faith in his own survivability anymore when he had been tormented for so many years too long, and dwelling into this small cell room next to a few more and having to lie down and just wait until it would pass made him feel a tad bit more worthless everyday.

It felt like jail, only it wasn’t. _He_ just made it feel like jail.

And by he, meaning Lucifer. _Hallucifer_.

A single hallucination who, much against Sam’s will, spent time keeping him more unhealthy company than necessary and wasn’t exactly aware of the definition about the word _stop_. Even asking him to consult a dictionary wasn’t much of a help, ‘cause Hallucifer would just get distracted half-way through his research and start singing the entire alphabet song by pausing his finger under every letter, and it would only help Sam grow his grudge against him.

To be more descriptive, Hallucifer was relentless and always shaking with energy and enthusiasm which he utilized to _entertain_ Sam. It was his goal to successfully bring a smile upon his victim’s lips, to make him laugh in joy at how truly clumsy he was. At least, that’s what Sam had reluctantly studied about him so far for the many years that he was compelled to bear with his presence.

Explaining this to his psychologists, what he generally received as an answer left him simultaneously astounded and appalled. They told him that, based on all of his stories, his hallucination could’ve been far more mentally bothersome an exhausting, frightening; that Hallucifer could’ve taken his time to physically torture Sam instead, to scare him into a lifetime trauma – though Hallucifer was more of the witty type that had one objective he aimed for as a part of Sam’s life and that was to lure him into his circus acts which he typically failed at pretty epically since all his plans of entertainment turned into horrors. But Sam had grown used to it and became more frenquently exasperated than petrified.

His hallucination became active during daylight, especially in the morning. Sam couldn’t count exactly how many times Lucifer had thrown an ear-splitting parade around his cell as a one-man-band with confetti and garlands escorting him inside to wake him up. That, or he stomped the door open and screamed that famous Robin Williams line “Goodmorning, Vietnam!” at the top of his lungs through that stupid megaphone of his which Sam still had no clue of where he got from in the first place. But it didn’t really matter because the more regularly it occured, the more Sam began to loathe the sound of his hallucination’s voice.

But that was mainly the reason why Sam was an early morning bird and woke up with throbbing ears, a palpitating heart and a headache.

He had tried to cope with it for so many years that he had completely lost faith in the end, to actually still believe that he would grow out of it one day - that by some occult miracle, Hallucifer would finally understand how he genuinely made Sam feel and that his entertainment had only brought suffering and lost braincells, and that his presence around Sam wasn’t really healthy.

That he was an illness and nothing more.

And, well, it was kind of stupid to think that a hallucination would hopefully obey by command and leave Sam be if asked, because that’s technically not how it worked.

But for a hallucination, Lucifer was quite different.

He lacked the apathy unlike most illusive tormentors and surprisingly thought of Sam as a friend to kindly annoy with affection in his very own way. He was also the pettish but jovial sort of company that Sam couldn’t avert if he wanted to, because no matter how far he’d run off, Lucifer would always find him and proceed to trail behind him like a lost puppy, either playing on his flute whilst in military marching style or talking to him about how he still couldn’t get over the fact that the Harry Potter series had finally come to an end.

Yes, for some odd reason, Lucifer was pop cultured and caught up with so much stuff that Sam didn’t have the faintest clue what he was talking about more than a good percentage of the time.

He could even predict future events.  
  
It always began with him either swiftly sneezing thrice in a row or scrunching up his nose and itching it, before flicking a “Sam, the nurse is going to drop your meds in just a second, you might just wanna get those good reflexes to work and prepare to catch, cowboy,” here or “Thunderstorm’s on the way. What’d ya say about a little cuddling while it passes, hm?” there.

They seemed rather silly than true – but, strangely enough, Lucifer was always right about them. Not had he ever unleashed a single lie through all of that nonsensical stuff he frequently blabbered that didn’t attract Sam’s attention whatsoever.

Ironic, considering Lucifer was supposed to be the Tempter. But then again, was his hallucination really supposed to represent the actual Devil? He seemed too heavily focused on clinging to Sam like a lost avid lover to really be. And as annoying as it was, Sam would rather take that option than any of the afflicting ones.

A few of his fellows that lived two cells away suffered from the same symptom – but apparently, they lived the situation far worse than him.

One of them, he could recall that her name was Anna, had mentioned something about a gathering of hookchains hanging from the ceiling of her room that rattled at night which would only vanish by morning. She claimed that sometimes they swung back and forth, as if they were attracted to her skin and were thirsty to pierce through flesh.

And Garth, the little fragile boy that lived three cells away from Anna’s, woke up with invisible bare hands curling around his neck every night and knew how it felt to have the last bit of oxygen leave your lungs until your vision would blur. They led him to constant depression, to mental breakdowns and eventually to anorexia.

Sam was repelled by the thought of it and felt nauseated just by thinking about how these people had to fight through such manipulative dark forces everyday for seemingly no reason. These monsters – they were just _there_ , pushing every button of an innocent victim until they’d lose sanity and would end their misery themselves in due course for they decided that it was time to surrender.

Many people he knew in the facility were fascinated by Sam’s compagnionship, like they’d never actually had the pleasure to hear a story about an anti-torture hallucination as petulant as Lucifer outside of these psychiatric walls before they all became cray cray. But then again, a majority of the patients had been dwelling inside of this hospital for years and some of them had forgotten what lovely compagnionship actually felt like.  
  
Sam had lied to them several times.  
  
Every patient that knew about Sam’s experience with Hallucifer, had easily been manged to convince that Lucifer was simply a childish thing that sought for interaction and even offered to wear friendship bracelets with Sam instead of jabbing needles into his skin or manipulating him, though he never mentioned the worst parts of his hallucination. That’s why he they considered him to be the luckiest.

Sometimes, people even inquired him about Hallucifer – asked him surprisingly about his current mood, what he was currently doing, what he _looked like_ even (if he looked intimidating or just simply cute). Sam thought those were just plain odd things to ask, but understood that discussing about something positive was therapeutic in some way and helped _some_ of the patients cope with their own personal issues. So naturally, it was up to Lucifer to pull both of his thumbs up to indicate that he was fine so Sam could answer them, or when the hallucination was toying (but Hallucifer likes to call is _fixing_ ) with the public TV in the back of the comfort room to get Sam’s favorite show to come on (ending up smashing it into bits right after) he just told them “the usual”.

No one really questioned Sam about his own health condition though, probably because he made them believe that his hallucination was far less violent and spent his time knitting matching socks for Sam instead of physically torturing him. Only the nurse that frequently passed by for his meds, to check his blood pressure and bring him food took a moment out of her day to see how he was doing. But besides that, he didn’t really expect anyone to care anyway.

Except maybe Dean… but he probably didn’t care either. It had been months since the last time he’d came to visit, and even though the thought of it stung Sam deeply, he couldn’t blame his brother for losing interest into him after trying to take care of him for long. Sam wasn’t that five year old child anymore, and he betted that there were far more crucial things taking place in Dean’s life that he had to focus on now.

Sam understood.

He just couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for why he was currently located into a mental hospital, suffering from 'bonding’ with an imaginary dude who apparently thought that sticking with Sam would bring him a lifetime of bliss and pleasure.

 


End file.
